


Round and round we go (when we'll stop we never know)

by trinipedia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fanfiction, Gift, Gift Fic, M/M, Oneshot, SPN - Freeform, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-05
Updated: 2010-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-07 12:07:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8800237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trinipedia/pseuds/trinipedia
Summary: Sam's hasn't been a reasoned choice. It just-happened.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://thepuppeteer.livejournal.com/profile)[thepuppeteer](http://thepuppeteer.livejournal.com/). My life has changed since I met you. Love you so fucking much, De.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** Not mine in any way, shape or form. Kripke owns them. Based on Kiely Williams' ["Circle Game"](http://www.4shared.com/file/188461644/e8754cfd/Kiely_Williams_-_Circle_game.html). ~~I highly doubt this is what she was talking about, though~~
> 
> **Notes** : For [](http://thepuppeteer.livejournal.com/profile)[thepuppeteer](http://thepuppeteer.livejournal.com/). My life has changed since I met you. Love you so fucking much, De.
> 
> **Artist Name:** [](http://chica-charlie.livejournal.com/profile)[chica_charlie](http://chica-charlie.livejournal.com/) (who's a saint) based on a pic by [](http://the-last-shadow.livejournal.com/profile)[the_last_shadow](http://the-last-shadow.livejournal.com/)  
> 

"Hey, Sam! Are you ok?"  
Sam has lost count of all the times someone has asked him the same question, since he has arrived at Stanford.  
He always gives the same answer: a small smile, a nod and "Of course, everything's fine."  
And it could be, Sam knows, it wouldn't take much, but as it is he can't possible be ok.  
Not for real, especially not if it all depends on a phone call he doesn't receive, and no matter how much Sam wants for his phone to ring, it doesn't.  
Days melt into weeks, and the ache in his chest doesn't lessen at all.  
Sam guesses that means he's not doing so good, since he's the one who decided to leave, after all, and hence he's not allowed to mope, but he can't really help it.  
He misses **him** , like a severed limb, and if he could he'd forget about **him** altogether; he knows that if he did, he'd only be half a man, though, so he prefers to swallow the pain and keep his memories and feelings as close to his heart as he can.  
Doesn't mean his situation is less fucked up, anyway.

  


Even after **he** has come to get Sam at college, Sam somehow keeps missing **him**.  
Everyday is different, but it feels the same to Sam; same awkwardness, same crack between them, same dull throb in his head due to the amount of daily stress they're submitting each other to.  
Sam has always been quite moody, but things take a turn for worse once they get on the road together once more; without his father and their fights to focus on, Sam gets weirdly attuned to **him** , and his mood starts to go up and down following every move **he** makes, every mask **he** puts on, every word **he** doesn't say.  
Once more, all Sam wishes he could do is get off this ride he wasn't even supposed to get on in the first place, so that maybe, for once, Sam and **him** could be on the same page at the same time; once more he realizes it's impossible.  
It's impossible because **he** literally runs through Sam's veins; the only way to get rid of **him** and get **him** out of Sam's system would probably be bleed to death, and even then some of **him** would probably remain on Sam's skin.  
They're stuck in a neverending circle, that keeps spinning round and round again until they're dizzy with it and they can't understand which way is up, what love is or means, who's right or wrong.  
They're addicted to a game they never consciously decided to play, and every time one of them, or both, think they're finally over it, they simply have to hear each other's name in a whisper that tastes both like perdition and salvation to get lost in the sound all over again.  
**He** always says that Sam is his better half, that he's the one who has to call the shots because **he** has already damned them both and should therefore refrain from making any further decision; when **he** does, Sam just chuckles, and **he** follows, as Sam gets lost in the echo of **his** laughter and forgets why this was wrong in the first place.

Sam's hasn't been a reasoned choice.  
It just-happened.  
In between wanting off their fucked up merry-go-round and being unable to stop spinning, Sam realized he couldn't call **him** by his name anymore.  
Too much baggage came with it, too much intensity, too many mixed feelings, choices, bonds Sam couldn't let himself think about, because every time he did it got hard to breathe, almost harder than when **he** was not around and every hour felt like an eternity.  
So yeah, Sam knows he can't use **his** name, but if he can't he doesn't know how to call **him**.  
"Can't help you there, Sammy" **he** has said, the only time Sam tried to address the topic as they were sitting on the Impala, the sun setting in front of them "but if you ever call me _baby_ I'll chop your dick off."  
Sam smiles at the memory, and even if he still asks himself from time to time why they keep going round like crazy spins, and if or when are they ever going to finally be able to stop, he knows that by then none of them would be able to find the way out anyway.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Not Coming Down From:** Bed  
>  **Clawed Chained Heart:** excitedexcited  
>  **Under The Spell Of:** Kiely Williams "Circle Game"


End file.
